


the long silence

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety Attacks, Beating, Blood and Gore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Gun Violence, Historical, Historical Hetalia, Minor Character Death, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vomiting, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In 1945 Soviet tropes take Berlin and effectively end the war. Prussia and Germany are taken into custody shortly thereafter.He’s slumped over the table when the Russian troops finally catch up to his little party. He’s not quite passed out, just in an unpleasant stupor. The soldiers recognize Prussia’s importance immediately. They drag him to his feet. He gives them a stupefied smile as they mock him in Russian. He understands every word but doesn’t bother answering.Two of his own try to make a run for it. They do not make it far before the Russians shoot them down. Prussia sways. He remembers the two dead talking about the family. One had a sister named Suzanne, the other’s mother had died in the bombing of Dresden. Prussia doesn’t remember the men’s names.
Relationships: Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Prussia/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	the long silence

**Author's Note:**

> This was written originally in like 2015 or something? So please forgive any mistakes. Additionally, I tried to be historically accurate and I will provide some sources at the end for further reading if you are interested.
> 
> I would advise that if you are looking for a clear cut good vs evil rehashing of the end of WWII to not read this fic. 
> 
> Thanks to Illya for his indispensable help with editing, providing information about Soviet troops, and tips on the Russian language.
> 
> If you want a more detailed warning before you read this please refer to the end notes.

Last Prussia saw Germany he was wandering the streets in a kind of abject horror. Prussia has no idea where he is now. He frankly doesn’t care. They’re both going to be captured soon, he knows. He’s spending as many free hours as possible drunk out of his mind. Who knows when he will next get the chance. 

There are some soldiers still doing their duties: fighting and dying. He's seen children wandering around with oversized uniforms, looking comically small carrying their weapons. Prussia hasn't been doing his duty for weeks, hell for months, instead he's pissing away his days and the last alcohol of the Reich with a small group of soldiers he’s sure will be dead in days. 

He’s slumped over the table when the Russian troops finally catch up to his little party. He’s not quite passed out, just in an unpleasant stupor. The soldiers recognize Prussia’s importance immediately. They drag him to his feet. He gives them a stupefied smile as they mock him in Russian. He understands every word but doesn’t bother answering. 

Two of his own try to make a run for it. They do not make it far before the Russians shoot them down. Prussia sways. He remembers the two dead talking about the family. One had a sister named Suzanne, the other’s mother had died in the bombing of Dresden. Prussia doesn’t remember the men’s names. One of the Soviet soldiers snaps at him in broken German to stay on his feet.

He lets the chatter of the Soviet soldiers wash over him as he sways in place. Mostly he’s looking at the smear of blood and brain where the head of one of his own used to be. His sister’s name was Suzanna. She was a nurse. She's probably dead.

Eventually, the Soviet soldiers begin to poke him along with rifle muzzles. He hears something about headquarters. They start to move and he drags himself along. He doesn’t pay attention to the trip. In the back of his mind he is keenly aware of where they are in the city, Alexander Platz in ruins, museum island rubble, his city in pieces.

Finally, they reach some half standing building, the only one in sight with a functional roof. He’s shoved into a room and miraculously the heavy oak door is still intact to cage him inside. After the door slams and locks behind him, he overbalances, falls to the floor, stays there for a long moment before he turns over to look at the other occupants in the room. Two of his own are sitting against the wall, side by side. They do not speak to him. He doesn’t bother asking them anything.

He takes in the room slowly. An abandoned desk and chair, papers strewn over the floor. Boot prints smeared on tile. There’s blood on the floor. There’s no window and when Prussia rolls to his back and sees the faint outline of where a frame used to be mounted on the wall. When he looks more closely at one of the men he notices the waxy and sallow skin, probably dead.

Prussia turns to his side in time to throw up on the floor.

~~~~~~

Later, Prussia has no idea how much later, Russia visits him. Prussia listens to the muted thud of his boots on the floor as Russia walks in. His smile is disturbingly cheerful. He says nothing. After a moment of looking, Russia orders the other two soldiers be taken away. It takes several kicks for anyone to realize that one of the men is dead. The body stinks like death. The room smells like blood, vomit, piss, shit, and death. 

Russia leaves without another word. 

~~~~~~

Soldiers deliver a pot to the room and some food. Hours pass. The soldiers deliver his bother with the next meal. Prussia’s long since sobered up and takes a look at his brother, before looking away quickly. He’s bloody and soot smeared. He has deep lines on his face that might be exhaustion. 

Prussia doesn’t get up off the floor. 

“Hallo, Bruderlien.” Prussia greets. 

“Prüßen,” is all Germany says. He takes a moment to look around the room before sitting opposite Prussia on the floor. Prussia falls asleep in the silence. 

~~~~~~

When Prussia wakes, there is food. He has no idea if Germany has eaten. Germany passes the bowl to him.

“Eat.” Germany tells him.

He has no energy to argue. He eats. 

When he’s done he looks over Germany again. He’s got dried blood on his face, his pants, and his side. He smells like ashes and spent gunpowder. Prussia can think of nothing to say. 

“We’ve surrendered.” Germany tells him. Prussia only grunts in response. 

Prussia turns to lie down though he knows he won’t sleep. Some moments later, Germany nudges him. He looks over and Germany passes over his uniform shirt, folded, so Prussia can use it as a pillow. He accepts it wordlessly.

Prussia does not sleep. 

He thinks of Germany’s childhood. Prussia would wake a grumbling Germany in the mornings for training. Prussia would shout orders and prod his sleepy brother into military readiness. He remembers his brother’s face, still soft and round with youth, scrunched up and shining with sweat as he struggled through morning training with unaccountable fondness.

It’s been a long time since the two of them shared a room. Before the war they both lived in Berlin but Prussia was prone to traveling, while Germany had always been committed to the government. They had separate apartments and more often than not they were too busy to spend time together. In the Great War, they were on different fronts. In this war too. He on the east front, Germany on the west. Germany got to take France and luxuriate in a conquered Paris. Prussia got Poland, Ukraine, and then Russia. Warsaw, Kiev, Stalingrad, Kursk, the long retreat.

Thinking about Poland is so strange now. When he and Germany had first invaded Poland in ’39 he had hoped Poland would finally die. He’s been invading Polish lands for so many years, he thought certainly this time Poland would cease to exist, like so many before him. But he’s a stubborn bastard. Prussia has to admire that at least. 

Prussia is catapulted back into reality at the sound of his brother’s laughter. Everything comes into hyper-focus, all thoughts of Poland gone. He is suddenly acutely aware of how bad the room smells, how uncomfortable is makeshift pillow is, how disgusting he feels, unwashed for days, how loud his brother's sudden laughter is.

Germany’s laughter is only a short bust and when he falls silent again Prussia stares at him. Germany doesn’t look at him. He repositions and puts his head down. After a long silence, Prussia starts to question if he ever really heard Germany laugh at all. Maybe it was a guard outside the door. Did he see Germany move? 

Prussia feels suddenly sick, his heart races, his face gets hot, and his chest feels tight. He takes a deep long breath and takes in the smell of the room. No one cleaned the fluids that leaked from the dead soldier off the floor. Their bucket in the corner is rarely emptied. He and Germany both smell sour. There’s no ventilation in the room nor any heat but their bodies create a kind of unbearable humidity that clings to the skin.

After a moment, the smells becomes intolerable and Prussia tries to focus on something else. Anything else. He makes his breathing quiet and listens to the sounds of the building. Outside he can hear the sounds of a party. There is laughing and shouting and faint music. It’s Wagner. He wonders if Germany had been laughing at the party, the irony of hearing Soviet soldiers celebrating to German music. Prussia longs for alcohol. He’s sure Russia is at that party, laughing and getting drunk. Prussia doesn’t even wish for freedom, a few bottles of vodka would do.

The door to their little room bangs open suddenly, jolting him out of his panic. Russia stands there with a look of maniacal happiness on his face. The smell of alcohol melts into the room. Prussia sits up and scuttles away from the door. Germany doesn’t so much as jump.

“Germanija.” Russia greets.

Prussia is relieved that it is not his own name in Russia’s mouth.

“Stand up.”

Germany twitches but otherwise does not move.

“I said stand up.” Russia is not asking.

Germany stands.

“Very good.” Russia says and shoves him into the wall. Prussia scuttles farther into the corner.

“I hear you laughing. And I wonder why. What do you laugh about, Germaniya?”

Russia leans in close to Germany’s ear and Prussia can see his mouth moving. Prussia does not catch Russia’s whispered words over the din of the party. Germany does not so much as twitch at the words. He doesn’t even react to Russia’s hand at his throat. But then Russia applies pressure. Germany bucks against the hold, eyes wide. Russia keeps whispering to him holding him tight and Germany’s face starts to purple. He keeps pressing and only lets up when Germany’s eyes start to roll. Russia eases his hold then but doesn’t let do. He’s stopped whispering now. Instead, he stares intently at Germany’s face. When Germany has recovered some Russia presses against his throat again. Germany struggles less now. Finally, just as Germany’s eyes begin flutter, as his knees start to give, Russia lets go. Germany falls, coughing. 

Before Russia walks out, he lingers, watching Germany on his knees and Prussia crowded into the corner. When the door is closes, Germany starts gagging and Prussia grabs the makeshift chamber pot for Germany to throw up in.

~~~~~~

After that first visit from Russia, he and Germany start speaking to each other. They whisper updates about the war to each other. Germany tells him about France, Belgium, and Netherlands. Prussia feels a pang of longing for France when Germany describes his days in Paris. Prussia tells Germany about Poland, spitting angry, arrested some months after the invasion. Prussia has no knowledge of his fate. He speaks of Ukraine, Hungary, and the Baltic states. He tries not to talk too much about the fruitless terrifying battles he participated in while in Russia.

“It’s over, finally.” he tells Germany though he’s known that it’s over for months. He thinks Germany is only just starting to understand that. Prussia reminds himself again that Germany is so young. Germany has no idea that theirs is an existence with no guarantees of eternity. Germany really bought into that thousand years shit. Prussia knew better. He had accepted that they were only going to get a few years of glory. And now Prussia knows that he will, they will, just have to live through whatever Russia gives them. 

~~~~~~

Russia visits more after that. Sometimes he wants information from them. Germany is stubbornly silent but Prussia is willing to share some. Sometimes he only wants to hurt them, to choke them, to beat them. On one particularly memorable occasion, he cuts a stripe down the side of Prussia’s neck. Germany tries to intervene. Russia calls the guards before Germany can even touch him and Germany is beaten for his infraction. Prussia doesn’t know why Russia didn’t just have Germany shot. It’s what he would have done.

Russia also eventually decides to give them a shower. This consists of taking them to the temporary showers the Soviets have rigged in a neighboring building and hosing them both down in cold water. They are not given soap. The guards leer and jeer. Prussia keeps his mouth shut and his face blank. Germany is less successful at keeping his cool and when his expression breaks at a particularly vicious threat against them, they call him a coward, a baby, a girl. Their uniforms are taken from them and they are given Red Army issue clothes. Prussia losses his pillow. 

On Russia’s first visit after the showers he brings two soldiers into the room with him and Prussia’s stomach drops. Usually the reinforcements stay outside of the room. He doesn’t know what Russia needs these soldiers for. Russia says nothing to enlighten them.

Russia closes the door of their makeshift cell behind him and kicks Germany away from where he was sitting beside Prussia. Each kick is more vicious until Germany bangs into the wall and the plaster cracks under the weight of the blow. He’s left wheezing and curled over. 

Russia goes for Prussia next. He hauls the man up and Prussia doesn’t resist. Russia is not gentle. He shoves Prussia and he falls into the desk, barely saving his face from getting smashed into the its surface. It doesn’t matter anyway, Russia shoves him down until his cheek is against the desk top. 

He barks orders to his soldiers to shoot Germany if he tries to interfere. Prussia looks over and sees blood on Germany’s lips, takes in barrel shrouds and stamped steel in his brother’s face. He wonders if Germany understands yet what is coming. He probably knows. Germany took Paris, he knows what it means to be invaded, to lose the war. Yet, seeing Germany’s expression of horror, Prussia isn’t so sure.

Russia smells like vodka and gunpowder and he fumbles to get Prussia’s pants open and down. Russia isn’t gentle, he doesn’t take his time. Prussia thinks wildly that Russia’s going to chafe his dick without lube and that’s never pleasant. Then it doesn’t really matter that Russia is chafing his dick while he’s raping Prussia. It hurts too much to care. 

Prussia tries to leave, to close the door on his awareness. 

Poland. Prussia thinks of Poland. He thinks of Poland while Russia is in him and Germany is pressed against the wall, guns in his face, looking suspiciously like he’s crying. He thinks of how Poland has lived through 200 years of subjugation being handed off on from one conqueror to the next. Prussia doesn’t fight like Poland did in the beginning. He recalls Poland in those last few months of the Great War, stiff and silent, quietly outraged, but still doing his duty or so Prussia thought. Prussia thinks of duty. What a fucking joke duty is. He thinks of waking Germany in the morning to train, of the fields where they’d practiced horseback riding together, the fog and watery sunshine of the early morning.

Russia steps away eventually, leaving him on the desk pants around his knees and the other two soldiers laugh at him. Prussia moves straighten up, to pull his pants up, to cover himself at all. He’s stopped by a hand on his back. The soldiers hold him down and they laugh, one runs his fingers over Prussia’s ass. He’s sure it’s a mess of blood and cum. Someone calls out some names, calls for them to come. More soldiers arrive to laugh at him. He can hear them asking Russia for a turn and he feels numb in the silence that follows. 

“No.” Russia answers and a grumble goes through the group. Prussia feels as if he is being touched at a great distance. As if he is at the bottom of pit and the soldier hands don’t quite reach him. Russia allows them to grope and fondle him for several more moments.

Through the haze he hears soldiers asks about the other one. At that Prussia livens. 

“Nie! Nyet! Lass ihn-” he struggles as viciously as he can and the soldiers laugh. Someone is holding his arms behind his back. His legs are still caught in his pants.

After a few more moments of struggling, Russia calls “Enough!”

There are grumbles of dissatisfaction through the cell. Russia roars at them to get out. They go without a further complaint. They know to fear Russia.

Russia lifts Prussia by his neck, holds the man against his body, feeling Russia's rib cage expand and contract against his back. Prussia stays there, limp and silent. Russia smells his hair, puts his face into Prussia’s neck, sweeps his hand under Prussia’s shirt and fondles his heaving chest. Prussia looks Germany in the eye as this happens. He’s not sure what he’s hoping to see but looking at his brother face twisted and pained offers him no solace. Finally, Russia kisses him on the cheek, then shoves Prussia to the ground. 

~~~~~~

Prussia doesn’t try to get up after that. He pulls his pants up while laying on the ground, hissing when he moves the wrong way. He’s in agony. Not just from the damage to anus but his abdomen is cramping fiercely, his hips and legs are sore. He aches. 

Germany comes to him, doesn’t even bother to get off the ground, just crawls along the ground. Prussia remembers suddenly visiting Italy, how the brothers had taken him around Rome, shown him the holy sites, Prussia hadn't bothered to tell them he'd been to Rome many times already. They took him to Scala Sancta, and he remembers seeing devotees crawling on their hands and knees to the relics. He had found it strange, he had been a Lutheran for many years by then, to see someone abase themselves to completely for devotion. He wonders now if it wasn't devotion but fear, an expression of feeling like a bug under the weight of terror.

Germany touches Prussia’s shoulder. His hand is hot and heavy and so very real it makes Prussia jump. Germany does not try to touch him again that evening. They stay beside each other in silence for hours until Prussia begins to weep silently.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: gore and death via gunshot, descriptions of a corpse, vomiting, threats of gang rape, rape described in fairly graphic detail. Everything that appears in the tags really does appear in this fic, so tread carefully please. I would also like to say that while this fic does not directly deal with Nazism as an ideology or the Holocaust, the shadow of these things necessarily loom over the fic. 
> 
> [Rape of German women in the aftermath of WWII.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rape_during_the_occupation_of_Germany) This fic was born out of the question of what happened to Germany and Prussia in the immediate aftermath of the war considering the mass rape of German women in this period. While I say women, it is likely that men were also assaulted and raped in this time, though the documentation for these events is non-existent as far as I know. 
> 
> [The battle of Kursk](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Kursk)
> 
> [The partitions of Poland.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Partitions_of_Poland)
> 
> [Scala Sancta.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scala_Sancta)
> 
> [For further reading on the battle of Berlin.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Berlin)


End file.
